Chapter 1: The Tariff Heard Round the World
The Kingdom of Palm Beachonia
Chapter 1
The Tariff Heard Round the World
That morning in the Oval office in a bathrobe (the new formalwear standard), President Donald Trump announced new "Victory Tariffs" against the entire planet to his staff.
"From now on, any country—friend or foe, doesn’t matter—100% tariffs. Double if they look at me wrong. Triple if they say something about my golf swing."
When questioned, he clarified:
"You know what? Let's just say 1000%. It's easier to remember. Beautiful number. Big. Huge."
He asked for a chart as he dressed. “People love charts, they make people think you have a plan, that you have put some thought into it. Make it look complex and impossible to understand.” he said to his aides. They scrambled as he prepared to walk out on the lawn…
Aides sat down at the computer. They made up some prompts with financial terms they weren’t sure about and asked ChatGPT to give then a tariff plan as fast a possible. They barely had enough time to print it out much less double check it to see if it made any sense.
It was hot on the South Lawn that day, the kind of humid Washington heat that turned dress shirts into adhesive wraps and hair into collapsing monuments to lost vanity. Reporters fanned themselves with press passes. Aides squinted into the sun. Somewhere, cicadas screeched in protest against existence itself.
And there, standing behind a lectern hastily wheeled onto the grass, was Donald Trump—President of the United States, Leader of the Free World, Wearer of an ill-fitting navy suit two shades too shiny for good judgment.
A light breeze ruffled the flags behind him. Someone had arranged them badly: the American flag sagged to one side like a tired old soldier, while the Trump 2024 banner snapped aggressively in the wind.
It began quietly, from the almost bored mouth of a man who had long ago stopped distinguishing thought from impulse.
Trump cleared his throat into the microphone, a wet sound that echoed across the lawn and several oceans.
"Thank you. Thank you. Beautiful day. Maybe the best day ever. Everyone’s saying it."
He shuffled a few papers—blank, according to photographic analysis—and then, with the grandiosity of a man unveiling a masterpiece no one asked for, announced:
"Starting today, Effective immediately. I am imposing a 1000% tariff on every country in the world. Allies, enemies, doesn’t matter. They have all - the whole world - been screwing us over and laughing at America. If they want to sell something here, they gotta pay. Bigly."
There was a stunned silence. A bird chirped. A Secret Service agent shifted his weight uncomfortably, as if considering whether this counted as an act of war or if it was time for lunch.
A reporter, emboldened by the absurdity, shouted, "Even Canada?"
Trump leaned into the microphone, grinning like a man who had just outsmarted a crossword puzzle he wrote himself.
"Especially Canada. I never liked maple syrup. Too sticky."
He gave a thumbs-up. The crowd of reporters stared, pens hanging limp in their hands.
Within Hours:
The global stock markets crashed so hard that traders simply wandered out into the streets of major cities, dazed, as if emerging from natural disasters.
In Tokyo, brokers sobbed openly in the rain.
In London, the Pound Sterling deflated so quickly that vending machines began rejecting it in favor of old arcade tokens.
Meanwhile, Trump retreated into the White House residence, sprawling on a leather couch with a Diet Coke and a Big Mac, watching the chaos unfold on twelve muted television screens stacked on top of each other like a technological totem pole.
He turned to his Chief of Staff, a former home shopping executive named Barry who had been hired mainly for his enthusiasm and willingness to wear matching red ties.
"You see that?" Trump said, pointing at the flashing news banners.
"That’s leadership. Nobody’s ever done leadership like that. Lincoln wishes he could’ve tariffed. Now everybody is going to come to kiss my ass."
Barry, who had learned long ago that survival meant nodding quickly and questioning nothing, nodded like a bobblehead during an earthquake.
The Domestic Response:
By midnight, protests bloomed across the country like stubborn weeds:
Farmers threw imported soybeans into rivers.
Small business owners tried to set Amazon warehouses on fire, only to realize they were heavily insured fortresses.
Teenagers on TikTok declared the tariffs "low-key cringe" and blamed them for the sudden $17 price of a Red Bull.
The International Response:
Everyone was stunned in every language. Bill O’Riley said of the international news: It’s all gibberish, I can’t understand a word of it.
Leaders in China smirked
Shipping screeched to a halt mid ocean.
The bond market sales turned to crickets.
In Congress, a bipartisan coalition of exhausted politicians introduced Articles of Impeachment titled simply:
"Because, Come On. Seriously? Get Real. No.3"
For the third time, impeachment proceedings began—this time, with a new wrinkle: Trump didn’t even bother fighting it.
In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. More opportunity for victimhood and face time in the media. More opportunity to throw mud at his enemies.
He called it "the greatest impeachment ever of the greatest president ever, not even close, You see how the deep state hates me? How they fear me? How they fear you?" The rial was live-streamed under the brand TRUMP JUSTICE LIVE! with hand picked commentators in a constant drone of commentary drowning out the proceedings while commenting on the opposite of what was actually happening, and sold virtual tickets for $99 apiece for those who wanted the ‘real news’.
When asked if he would contest the charges, he smirked and said:
"Why would I contest something I’m winning? You’re only loser if you admit it. I never lose. They are the losers. Everybody says so."
But he was losing and the soon to be King Donald the First needed a solution.
A big solution.
A beautiful solution.
Something bold enough to change the subject and, if possible, punish everyone who had ever looked at him wrong.
He started picking through his options, Canada, Greenland, El Salvador… “Yeah!” he thought, “Here’s the next shiny object. We’ll start with El Salvador where they mine their own bitcoin from a volcano - it must be hot in those mines he mused inwardly - and they have a big beautiful maximum security prison full of scary gangster people. Brilliant.”
(Next Chapter Teaser:
Chapter 2 — The El Salvador Solution
→ Trump’s secret prison plan for his enemies, how it backfires, and how deportation becomes the hottest new reality show format.)
... psychedelic science non-fiction. Brilliant!
Waiting (considering actions...) wide-eyed with baited breath.
It occurred to me after I re-read this that I wasn't sure if this takes place before the end of the 2nd term or after. Are you going to put in dates?